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STORY: GAZA / HUNGER AND DISPLACEMENT
TRT: 05:39
SOURCE: UNIFEED
RESTRICTIONS: NONE
LANGUAGES: ARABIC / NATS
DATELINE: 29 MAY 2025, GAZA CITY
1. Various shots, seaport crowded with tents of displaced Palestinians
2. Various shots, Moamen Abu Asr walking through tents,
3. Various shots, Abu Asr standing in front of his tent with his children, viewing photos and memories on his mobile phone
4. Various shots, Abu Asr family in courtyard set up in front of their tent
5. Various shots, Abu Asr repairing a small water tank
6. SOUNBITE (Arabic) Moamen Abu Asr, displaced Palestinian:
"There were times when we were displaced every two months. We suffer every day. I live on Al-Nazzaz Street in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood. When the first evacuation threat came, they told us: ‘Residents of Shuja'iyya, evacuate immediately!’ We came to Gaza's port right away. We couldn’t bring our food, water, or even our tent — nothing from the necessities of life. To make ends meet, I fix tanks for just five shekels, but now even five shekels are worthless. Today, the price of a kilo of flour has reached 100 shekels (with the dollar exchange rate at 3.6). Our situation is extremely difficult, and we don’t know what to do. The conditions are unbearable — this is not a life. We prefer death over this kind of life."
7. Various shots, Zeinat Abu Asr (wife of Moamen Abu Asr) washing dishes
8. Various shots, inside tent, children sleeping
9. SOUNBITE (Arabic) Zeinat Abu Asr, displaced Palestinian:
"We have reached the point of death. We are finished — we can no longer endure, and we have no energy left. They should bomb us and relieve us (of this life). Shame on them, what have we done (to deserve this)? Our children cannot take it anymore. I swear to God, every day we suffer, every day we cry for our children. We have no flour — look at the empty flour sack, I don’t have anything for my children. Yesterday, I was exhausted from crying as my children told me: ‘Mom, we want to eat,’ and I stood helpless, unable to do anything — especially because the food from the community kitchen never came. We are now living on clean water. I keep telling my children to drink water just to fill their stomachs. All day yesterday, we didn’t know what to do. But today, we got a plate of rice from the community kitchen and ate it. We have no firewood to cook. We are living a hard life. The flies are eating us, the insects too. The dogs bark all night as if they want to devour the children and drag them out of the tent. We have nothing left. We are exhausted, people of the world, Arabs — help us find a solution. Either find a solution or let all the nations unite together and drop a nuclear bomb on us to end our suffering — because we are truly worn out. We have nothing left. We’ve had enough — truly had enough. We are tired, O God! We swear by God, we are exhausted. A dog even entered the tent and was tugging at the fabric — I thought it was pulling my child, and I screamed. My husband came out and chased the dog away. Where do we go? What do we do? They’ve scattered us! We are at our breaking point. Please people find us a solution. Yes, we are exhausted. We can no longer be patient — our patience is gone."
10. Various shots, seaport crowded with tents of displaced Palestinians
Along the Gaza seaport, rows of worn-out tents line the waterfront, offering a somber reflection of the ongoing humanitarian crisis.
Once a busy hub for fishermen, the port has now become an overcrowded camp, following the destruction of all fishing boats — a space marked by hardship and the absence of basic necessities.
Amid this overcrowding, Moamen Abu Asr and his family have been living for nearly two months.
He fled from the Shuja'iyya neighborhood in eastern Gaza City after residents were ordered to evacuate "immediately," he recounts.
They left behind everything they owned.
“We couldn’t even bring our tent,” says Abu Asr.
He sits beside his children outside their makeshift tent, scrolling through photos on his mobile phone — glimpses of a life that once was.
In the tent’s small yard, he tries to repair a water tank, a job he recently took up to earn a little money. “I fix the tank for five shekels, but today, five shekels mean nothing,” he says with sorrow, explaining that the price of a 20 kg bag of flour has soared to 500 U.S. dollars due to extreme shortages and skyrocketing prices.
With humanitarian aid dwindling since last March and most community kitchens shut down, the suffering of displaced families is deepening.
Inside her tent, Zeinat Abu Asr washes a few cooking utensils in a makeshift kitchen set up at the entrance. She tries her best to cook or find food for her children, but most days, there is nothing to serve except water.
“We are now living on clean water,” Zeinat says, breaking into tears. “I keep telling my children to drink water just to fill their stomachs.”
She speaks with anguish about the previous night when a dog entered the tent and tugged at its fabric — she feared it was dragging one of her children.
“I screamed, my husband rushed out and chased it away. But now, we don’t know where to go anymore. We’re finished,” she says.
“We have reached the point of death. We are finished — we can no longer endure, and we have no energy left. They should bomb us and relieve us (of this life).”
Less than 18 percent of the strip remains as an area where civilians are allowed to stay.
Now, over 2.5 million Palestinians are crammed into that narrow strip of land, living under temporary tents or in partially destroyed buildings, facing hunger, daily displacement, and the constant threat of death — while the possibilities for survival dwindle day by day.
